An Elephant Bull Called Elizabeth and Other Short Stories from Africa

ELIZABETH

Perhaps we ought to have shown more respect however I was as culpable as any of the others when Elizabeth, a large bull elephant in Matusadona National park in Zimbabwe, was named with no small measure of irony.  

Despite being impressively large and male Elizabeth was named for the neat round hole in one ear that appeared to be a piercing for which, the guides of the area determined, a girls name was appropriate, and so it was.  Times have changed of course and now no-one would think twice of a boy with an ear piercing. 

Elizabeth was a true gentle giant.  Many an hour was spent watching him graze on the shores of Lake Kariba.  However, once a year and normally during the rains, he would go into musth.  During musth testosterone levels rise and gentle giants often lose the ability to think of anything else other than making love or war.  In the absence of a receptive female for the former a bull in such a state is a force to be reckoned with when committed to the latter.  

On your average day Elizabeth would quietly graze away from you if, perhaps, you came a little close in the vehicle.  If you were on foot then this old gentlemen would simply increase his personal safety margin a touch.  Rarely did he display displeasure or alarm at guide and tourist.  In musth I simply avoided him even though he never showed me any animosity, rather he tended toward being more cautious than normal but, as any guide will tell you, a bull in musth is to be given a wide berth.  This added caution was not true of dealings with his compatriots.  He was aggressive and relentless.

I never saw him in full fledged battle mode, none of the resident bulls would dare to take him on in such a state.  However, in his efforts to find a mate, he would roam far and wide and one day, by the looks of things, met his match. 

The change wrought in him was remarkable.  Once a fine bull with beautifully large symmetric tusks he came home, to his core range, looking rather ragged.  One tusk was snapped off high up, his left eye was a battered mess and he had lost condition.  Apparently the answer to a band aid in the bush is dust, lots of it, he continually sucked up dust and blew it over the damage.  For a long time after his eye troubled him and he would never regain its use though he did heal and regained condition. 

To earn your stripes as a full fledged walking guide in Zimbabwe you must log dangerous game experience.  Some is done conducting bush walks with guests, under your fully qualified tutor, some is done without guests and is pushed as far as is safe.  Basically you have to prove that, up close and personal, you can still think and react.

There were no game drives set for Andy, my tutor, or myself in the morning.  Starting out early we drove the main road hoping to pick up fresh spoor of anything counted as dangerous game.  This particular morning we drew a blank.  Nothing had crossed the road within a time frame that would let us follow up the tracks and make an approach to within close proximity before our presence would be required back at camp. 

Turning off the main road in a last ditch attempt we reached the shoreline coming across the usual suspects, a couple of young elephant bulls, out feeding in the open making their way to water.  There was no cover and no use in trying an approach.   The exercise was looking like a wash out.  However Elizabeth came to the rescue kindly snapping off a branch as he fed a little way back inside the tree line.  Of course we did not know it was he at that time.

Andy and I parked up a little way back in the trees, hoped out and loaded up.  If you are a guide and you have to use your firearm you have, in most instances, messed up.  We are but human and mess up we will, thus you carry a firearm.  

Ethically it could be argued that approaching an elephant on foot is a recipe for disaster and getting closer than you would normally do with guests  even more so.  However, speaking of my own experience, these close approaches were invaluable in building my confidence and experience in dealing with dangerous game.  In a career that spanned eighteen years I never shot an animal in self defence and the closest I ever came was not when deliberately going in to take a look but rather when I bumped into the totally unexpected.